


Fairy Tales Have Happy Endings

by Amber_Angel



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Angst, But he doesn't really?, Fairy Tales, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Really minor angst, The Squip is actually trying to help, boyf riends - Freeform, fairy tale AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-05
Updated: 2017-12-25
Packaged: 2019-02-11 02:59:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12925878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amber_Angel/pseuds/Amber_Angel
Summary: Jeremy felt a hand on his shoulder, and when he whirled around, he was face-to-face with a boy, shorter than he was, wearing a fancy, deep red tunic and a half mask. His head was cocked, and Jeremy could see a concerned frown on his lips.“Are you alright?” the boy asked, and Jeremy shivered. His voice sounded familiar, but in the panic and confusion of trying to figure out where the hell he was, he couldn't place it.“I-I don't know. Where am I? Who are you?”***Jeremy is a pining boy, and the Squip is just trying to help. (But he needs to redefine the term).





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! So, I hinted at a fairy tale AU in my last fic, and here it is! I will be trying to include traditional stories, like Cinderella and Sleeping Beauty, but if the story line permits, I'd also love to incorporate some less known fairy tales too. If you have any suggestions, or stories that you think could go well, tell me in the comments!
> 
> Also! I tried to model Michael's style of speaking after what I imagine it was in medieval times, even though obviously this story isn't molded to actual, historical fact.

“Maybe I could just ask him to lunch?” Jeremy asked, sitting hunched over on the edge of his bed. He had been stressing for the past half-hour, bouncing suggestions off of the Squip on how he could possibly ask Michael out. Unfortunately, none of the ideas were sticking, and the glitchy, holographic Keanu Reeves was now glaring at him from the corner. 

 

**No. Jeremy, really. You need to be better than this if you're going to have any hope of impressing Michael.**

 

“Oh, well I’m so sorry that I’m not a Disney prince,” Jeremy shot back, frowning. 

 

**Interesting comparison…**

 

Before Jeremy could worry about what  _ that  _ meant, the Squip was standing to gesture at him with a waving hand.

 

**You should go to bed, Jeremy. Losing sleep over your hopeless crush will do nothing but worsen your appearance in the morning. And believe me, you need all the beauty sleep you can get.**

 

Jeremy frowned, but obeyed anyway, sending a glare in the Squip’s direction before he closed his eyes and tried to sleep.

 

***

 

Sometime during the night, Jeremy woke with a sharp pain in his foot to find himself jumping away from a young woman in a white dress, who apologized for stepping on his foot and then drifted away. When he took in his surrounding, he saw that he was standing in the middle of a great room, amid a crowd of people dancing in elegant attire.

 

‘Um, what the hell?’ he asked the Squip, looking around frantically for any sign of the blue Keanu Reeves. 

 

There was no answer. Then, he felt a hand on his shoulder, and when he whirled around, he was face-to-face with a boy, shorter than he was, wearing a fancy, deep red tunic and a half mask. His head was cocked, and Jeremy could see a concerned frown on his lips. 

 

“Are you alright?” the boy asked, and Jeremy shivered. His voice sounded familiar, but in the panic and confusion of trying to figure out where the hell he was, he couldn't place it. 

 

“I-I don't know. Where am I? Who are you?” Jeremy spluttered, with half a mind to pull away. He didn't like to be touched by anyone but Michael, his dad on rare occasions, and Christine for the sake of hugs. 

 

The boy let out a nervous laugh.

 

“Are you serious? You had to have gotten here somehow. So, how can you not know where here is?”

 

“I just don't! Enlighten me,” Jeremy replied. The way the boy danced around an actual answer reminded him a bit of Michael when he was trying to stall for time on a particularly difficult question. 

 

“Well…” One hand slid from Jeremy's shoulder to his waist, and another took his hand, raising it to chest height. “You are currently standing still in the middle of the palace ballroom. I assume you don't know what day it is either?”

 

Jeremy shook his head, now seriously considering making a run for it.

 

“It's the prince's eighteenth birthday. The Queen decided to hold a celebratory ball in honor of the occasion, and, as we are standing stock still in the middle of a rather lively four-step, we may get some rather strange looks. So, mysterious stranger, may I have this dance?” The boy grinned from underneath his mask, and Jeremy felt himself nodding. He didn't know any dances, and, as Christine had repeatedly reminded him, he was a horrible dancer without practicing the song for at least a day in advance. Somehow, though, his feet seemed to know the steps, and he was free to focus on the unknown boy in front of him. 

 

“So, you never told me who you were,” Jeremy wheedled, mostly to take his mind off of the fact that he it felt like every eye in the room was on them, watching them turn, the boy's hand still steady on Jeremy's waist. 

“Hmm, well, I honestly find it amusing that you don't know,” the boy replied, winking at Jeremy through the mask a second before dipping him. Jeremy barely had time to gasp before he was back upright, hand tightening in the other boy's. “Why don't we play a little guessing game? You get… five tries to guess who I am, and three hints.”

 

“Why can't you just tell me?” Jeremy complained. 

 

“Because that wouldn't be any fun! Besides, I don't know your name either, so it isn't as if I have an advantage.”

 

“Fine. And what if I do manage to guess right?”

 

“Then, I'll answer all your questions. No more tricks or dances. We can even go outside and talk civilly, if you want. But! If you don't guess correctly… you owe me a kiss. Does that sound fair enough to you?”

 

“W-what? But I don't know you, I don't want to kiss some random stranger!” Jeremy spluttered, but a tiny jolt ran down his spine, and he wasn't sure if he really imagined the tiny voice that hissed,  **just accept his offer!**

 

“Okay,” he accepted reluctantly. “Give me my first hint.”

 

“Alright. I'm fairly certain that you'd know who I am if you heard my name.”

 

“That's not a hint! That's just ego!” Jeremy protested. The boy laughed, and pulled Jeremy into a spin. Once the world came back into focus, he saw brown eyes that seemed to be laughing through the mask’s small eye holes.

 

“Fine, I'll give you a real hint. You might have heard of my cousin, Jake Dillinger?”

 

Jeremy nodded slowly, mind racing. How the hell was Jake a character in this messed up world? Had he just stepped into an alternate universe? Did that mean that Michael was here too, somewhere?

 

“Um…” Jeremy tried desperately to call up some familiar faces, sifting through names to match to what he could see of the face in front of him. Dark hair, couldn't be Rich. Boy, ruled out Christine, Jenna, and Chloe. He couldn't be Jake, he said they were cousins. “Dustin?”

 

The boy's jaw dropped, and Jeremy thought for a second that he had gotten it. Then, he remembered. Dustin was one of the tallest guys in their grade. He would tower over this boy. 

 

“Dustin? Haven't you met him? He's twice my size,” the boy said, sounding amused. “Well, I guess you need another hint. My mother, the  _ Queen _ , is urging me to try and find a suitor tonight.”

 

“You're the prince!” Jeremy blurted, feeling his face flush. “No wonder people have been staring at us!”

 

The prince laughed. 

 

“Yes, the young ladies of the kingdom weren't extremely pleased when I announced my preference for the young men,” the boy joked, winking. “However, our bet clearly states that you must provide me with a name, not a title. Still, the title surely makes it much easier.”

 

No. No it didn't. But the unsubtle sexuality hint did. Jeremy only knew of three guys in his grade that were openly gay: Michael, George, and Connor. And only two of them were short with this boy's dark hair. He thought that he knew. No, he was sure that he knew. But he didn't want to be right. Because if this was Michael,  _ his _ Michael, that meant that he was alone in this unfamiliar world with a best friend that didn't even know his name. 

 

“George?”

 

“Salazar? No, not quite. Close in looks, though.”

 

Shit.

 

“Alright, your third and final hint. My favorite item of clothing is a red cape that my mothers gave to me.”

 

“Michael,” Jeremy said, accepting the terrifying reality of his situation.

 

Michael let go of him long enough to step back and bow, grinning as he retook his position and they continued to dance. 

 

“Shame, I was kind of looking forward to that kiss,” Michael teased. Jeremy just knew that his face was red. “Still, you won. Would you prefer that I answer your questions on the balcony?”

 

Jeremy nodded, and Michael led him out of the crowded ballroom, removing his mask as soon as they were past the doors. Jeremy stared at his face, drawing comfort from the familiar features. 

 

“I declare an unfair advantage to you,” Michael complained teasingly. “You still have your mask on.”

 

“Oh, I didn't know I was wearing one,” Jeremy replied, hand flying to his face to scrabble for the edge of the mask.

 

“Here, let me help you.” Michael stepped closer and put his arms around Jeremy's shoulders, pulling at the mask’s strings. It fell into Jeremy's hand a moment later, and Michael retreated, letting out a quiet gasp. 

 

“What? Do I have something on my face?”

 

“You certainly do. It's called beauty, and I've never been acquainted with it in quite this way,” Michael replied, leaving Jeremy speechless and a little pleased. 

 

Did Michael just call him beautiful?

 

“Uh, thanks? You're pretty hot yourself.”

 

“You have the strangest vocabulary.” 

 

Jeremy laughed, covering his mouth with his hand. When he regained his composure, Michael was staring at him with wide eyes.

 

“I have to know your name,” he whispered. Jeremy smirked.

 

“Not so fast, Mr. Mell. You're the one who made me play the guessing game. You won't get my name that easily. And besides, you said that you would answer  _ my _ questions.”

 

“Ah, I suppose I did. Still, I propose a trade. Your name for two questions answered?” 

 

“Oh, okay. If you're really that desperate,” Jeremy agreed. “So, my first question, where are Rich, Christine, Jenna, Chloe, and Brooke? I know you said that Jake waa your cousin, but you didn't mention any of them.”

 

“For a boy who didn't even know who I was when I met him, you do seem to know a lot of people,” Michael remarked. “Rich Goranski is the prince of our southern-most ally. He was almost my betrothed, but then he and Jake met.” He laughed. “And that was the end of that. Jenna Rolan is my mother's favorite scribe and embassy. Brooke Lohst is a friend of mine, who works in the palace, and I have never met nor heard of a Christine or a Chloe.”

 

“Okay.” Jeremy nodded, letting the information sink in. “Okay. This next question might be a little… weird, but bear with me. Have you ever heard of a Squip?”

 

Michael just stared at him, and for a minute Jeremy thought he was going to spontaneously combust. Then, Michael's eyes narrowed, and the easy smile slipped from his lips. This new expression wasn't helping Jeremy's anxiety levels.

 

“Why do you want to know about the Squip? You're a pretty boy, you must be financially stable if you could afford that nice of an outfit, and you don't seem particularly love-struck to me. So what could you possibly need from him? Or…” Michael's eyes blew wide, and he turned to grip Jeremy's shoulders. “Did you make a deal with him? Is that why you ask?” 

 

“N-no,” Jeremy stammered, distracted by the proximity. “I've never met him. I was just curious.”

 

“I don't believe you.”

 

“Well, maybe if I told you the truth, you'd think that I was insane. Please, tell me?”

 

“Fine. He- or as some people call him,  _ it _ \- is a warlock. The most powerful that we know of. He makes deals with people, gives them the things that they want or need, but only for a steep price. Those who can't pay are seldom heard from again,” Michael said, voice low. “So promise me that you won't seek him out. You're too beautiful to vanish.”

 

“Oh, shut up,” Jeremy replied instinctively. 

 

“I will not! You are the most ravishing creature that I have ever had the fortune to lay eyes on, and I demand a name with which to address you!” Michael cried. 

 

“Jeremy… my name is Jeremy.” 

 

“Jeremy… a stunning name. It suits you,” Michael said, lifting one of Jeremy's hands to his lips. Jeremy blushed furiously, and he could feel his stupid heart pounding. He didn't know what the hell was going on. He had woken up maybe ten minutes ago, plopped into a completely different world, and here was his best friend who wasn't his best friend at all, telling him that he was ‘ravishing,’ kissing his hand,  _ flirting _ .

 

“Thank… you?” Jeremy replied, voice high and embarrassed. Michael smiled at him.

 

“You're most welcome, Jeremy…? Is there a last name included anywhere in that?”

 

Jeremy laughed.

 

“It’s Heere.”

 

“What’s here?”

 

“My last name.”

 

“Well, if it’s here, let me hear it.”

 

“I just told it to you!” 

 

“No, you just said, ‘It’s here.’”

 

“Yes, my last name is Heere!”

 

Michael huffed, exasperated, but he was grinning. 

 

“Alright, if you didn’t want to tell me you could have just said so.”

 

Jeremy groaned. 

 

“No, my last name is literally Heere. H-e-e-r-e, Heere.”

 

“Oh!” Michael laughed, and Jeremy’s heart swelled. “My apologies, Sir Heere.”

 

“Sir? Am I a knight now?” Jeremy teased. 

 

Michael grinned.

 

“Would you like to be?” He winked, and Jeremy suddenly remembered the dictionary definition of a knight. 

 

 _Knight (noun)_ **_nīt_** _: A man devoted to the service of a lady (or prince) as her (or his) attendant or champion._

 

“Uh,” Jeremy said intelligently, hands dropping to his sides to fiddle with the edge of his shirt. “I wouldn’t be a very good knight.” 

 

“Nonsense! No one can be a bad knight. Besides,” Michael whispered, “You wouldn’t be sent anywhere dangerous. I wouldn’t let you get hurt.”

 

Jeremy thought that his heart had melted. He could accept this offer, and would in a heartbeat. He could stay here, with this Michael who flirted and called him beautiful. But… 

 

“I can't. I have to get home.”

 

“Oh.” Disappointment flooded Michael’s face in an instant. “You live far away, then?”

 

“That’s an understatement,” Jeremy muttered. 

 

Michael gave him a confused frown, but he didn’t push.

 

“Well, I did promise to answer all of your questions. Has my promise been fulfilled?”

 

Well… there was one more question that he could ask. And it wasn't like this was the real Michael, anyway. 

 

“One more question before I have to go. W-what exactly do you feel for me?”

 

Jesus, he was adopting Michael's style of speech already.

 

“I feel… dazzled,” Michael said slowly. “Like a blind man seeing the sun. Your beauty astounds me, your strange wording amuses me. I feel that I should like to know you better.”

 

“I-I’m sorry,” Jeremy whispered. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

 

Somewhere in the distance, a bell tolled, twelve strikes echoing in Jeremy’s head, and a voice invaded his mind, hissing into his thoughts, planting a picture there of a small clearing and a little shack. A tiny prick of electricity jolted the back of his neck.

 

**You know where to find me.**

 

“I need to go!” Jeremy blurted. He jerked his hands of Michael's loose grasp and fled, leaving his friend’s doppelganger standing on the balcony with a bewildered face, lips parted in unhappy shock. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeremy finds the Squip and gets some answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry for the long wait. School was breathing down my neck, and I've been suffering from my worst bought of writer's block in years. Hopefully the rest of the story goes more smoothly, but I still feel myself relapsing every once in a while, so you've been warned (and apologized to in advance). 
> 
> Also, I use it pronouns for the Squip. Just to avoid any confusion.

Twenty minutes later, Jeremy was stumbling along a dirty forest path with one shoe, cursing. He had lost the other to a patch of quicksand at the edge of the forest, and while he had been able to get out, the shoe had been left behind, too far out for him to retrieve, but tauntingly close enough that when he leaned out, he could graze it with his fingertips. Eventually he had given up and kept going, urged on by the annoyed mutter of the Squip’s voice in his head.

 

It was gradually growing darker. The sun was setting behind the trees, and it cast long shadows and dying sunbeams into Jeremy's face as he walked along and searched for something to distract him from the unpleasant squelch of the wet ground under his socked foot. Of course, his thoughts automatically went to Michael.  _ His  _ Michael, the one who wore that old, red hoodie that he probably should have replaced by now, stopped at 7-Eleven every morning for a slushie, and occasionally talked Jeremy into getting high in his basement. The Michael that he had finally accepted his feelings for only after his Squip had made them impossible to ignore (let's just say that it only took two days of tented pants in his friend’s presence, and three nights of some… suggestive dreams... for Jeremy to get the hint). 

 

If Michael were here, he would most definitely be in heaven after he got over his initial shock. He had always loved the idea of virtual reality, and Jeremy was pretty sure that wherever the Squip had dropped him was included in that category. Sure, it  _ looked  _ and  _ felt  _ real enough, but so did the Squip when it felt like mustering the energy to solidify his form. It didn't mean that it wasn't still computer-generated. 

 

Although, for a computer-generated illusion, the cottage door still hurt like a bitch when Jeremy walked into it. He put a hand on the wood to steady himself, and the door swung open, spilling him onto the floor at the feet of some very nice dress shoes. Jeremy groaned and flopped over onto his back to see the Squip shaking its head at him. 

 

**I don't know how you ever managed without me, I really don't. Get up, Jeremy.**

 

“How I managed? Well, at least I  _ managed  _ to avoid getting flung into imaginary universes by some stupid tic-tac that said it was going to help me,” Jeremy cried, offended, as he scrambled to his feet. “Seriously, what the hell?”

 

**You suggested that to woo Michael, it could be useful to have the qualities of a Disney character, or, as I chose to interpret it, a fairy tale prince.**

 

“I never said that,” Jeremy argued. 

 

**It was heavily implied.**

 

Jeremy crossed his arms. 

 

**Fine. Lightly implied. I took a few liberties in connecting the dots.**

 

“Um, no, it wasn't implied at all,” Jeremy said. “And besides, how was dancing with some kind of flirty Coraline-ish Other Michael supposed to help me ask real Michael out?”

 

The Squip sighed.

 

**Jeremy, while I am an extremely impressive creation, and my innovative programming allows me to accomplish many feats that your puny human brain could never dream of, creating new life, even artificially, is not one of them.**

 

“So… what's your point?”

 

The Squip sighed again and pinched the bridge of its nose. 

 

**I now believe I understand the human concept of a migraine. My** **_point_ ** **is that that ‘flirty, Other Michael’ that you danced with is not an ‘Other’ at all, but the original. He's simply been… reprogrammed. Oh, stop looking at me like that, it's purely temporary.**

 

“What about all the other dancers?” Jeremy demanded. “Are they real people that you brainwashed, too?”

 

**I really wish you wouldn't refer to it so crudely, Jeremy. And no, they are not.**

 

“But you said-”

 

**I said that I couldn't create** **_life._ ** **Did you look at any of them closely? Did they seem** **_alive_ ** **to you? Those background characters were merely solidified holograms pulled from dreams or memories, faces of people that you've seen before plastered onto corporeal automatons. They were no more tangible than I am.**

 

“Oh. That would explain why the girl who stepped on my foot looked like Jasmine Cephas Jones,” Jeremy mused sheepishly. “And I think I did see Mike Faist somewhere in that mix.”

 

**Exactly. You retained the memory of their faces, and my processor pulled them out to use.**

 

“But that doesn't explain how you managed to get Michael under your control. Is he squipped?” Jeremy asked.

 

**Squipped isn't a real word,** the Squip muttered. 

 

‘Just answer the question!”

 

**No, Jeremy. After our little simulation is complete, he will not be left under the influence of myself or any other Squip. I simply sent out a… how to put it in your terms… a brainwave?**

 

Jeremy shook his head, confused. 

 

**It’s… ugh. I used a good amount of my energy to alter his thought patterns and school them into something more appropriate for the setting I had planned. Unfortunately, to do so for the rest of your companions as well took more out of me than anticipated. That is why I could not respond and help with your initial confusion.**

 

“So you were, what, unconscious?” Jeremy asked, tilting his head.

 

**In a manner of speaking… well, no, not really. But if it makes you feel better to think of it as unconsciousness, then sure, knock yourself out.**

 

“Did- did you just make a pun?” 

 

**I'm a supercomputer, I come with a programmed sense of humor.**

 

Jeremy laughed, yawned, and then grimaced as his stomach twisted. 

 

“You wouldn't happen to have some food and a bed, would you?” he asked, casting a glance around the cabin. It was actually pretty nice. There was a rug on the floor, a table and a few chairs with vials and herbs strewn over the wood, and a fireplace crackling off to the side. There was also a tiny bed in the corner, with what looked like a curtain track surrounding it, and it didn't even look big enough to fit a child, but Jeremy didn't care. He could've slept on the rug at this point, but he needed food first. 

 

**Over by the fireplace, in the cabinet. There should be some sandwiches.**

 

“Thank God,” Jeremy mumbled, rushing over to open the cabinet. He pushed through more herbs and what looked disturbingly like animal bones (ew) until he finally found four sandwiches, neatly wrapped and sealed in a plastic bag. A questioning glance at the Squip yielded only a shrug, so he opened a sandwich and bit into it hesitantly. It was ham and cheese. 

 

**Give me some credit, Jeremy, I'm not a savage. I did remember that you would need to eat.**

 

“So you brought four sandwiches,” Jeremy deadpanned, swallowing his first bite. 

 

**Don't talk with your mouth full. It's unappealing. And yes, I did pack four sandwiches, because I do not plan to keep you here long. Those will only provide your mind with the** **_idea_ ** **of food. They won't give your body any of the actual energy that it needs. Because within that inability to create life is the inability to provide energy. My power is purely mental.**

 

“Some supercomputer you are,” Jeremy mumbled, and suddenly his sandwich was snatched away. “Hey!”

 

**Ungrateful humans don't get the idea of food,** the Squip retorted.  **Besides, I'm sensing a drop in your energy levels that have nothing to do with hunger. You need rest.**

 

“Fine.” 

 

The Squip guided him over to the bed, and Jeremy laid down. He had to curl himself into a ball to fit, but he made it work. 

 

“You need to buy a bigger bed,” he said, the remark losing most of its bite as he fell asleep. The Squip rolled its eyes and pulled the curtain shut around the bed on its track, effectively hiding Jeremy from view. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jeremy takes a walk, and two new characters come into play. Also, update: I can't summarize for shit, but hey, at least it's a pretty long chapter. Have fun, kids (I say to people who are probably older than me. Whatever).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well. This is almost a depression-fueled chapter. We lost the net neutrality vote, so honestly? I have no idea what the fuck is about to happen. As I've heard it said, great googly moogly, it's all gone to shit. 
> 
> I also don't know if this will affect whether or not I can update, or post new content, either here, or on my Tumblr. We'll just have to wait and see, I guess, and I'll keep on writing in the meantime. 
> 
> (Will I ever stop making references to other musicals? No, no I won't).

The door was nearly kicked open maybe a half-hour later, and the Squip looked up calmly from where it sat at its table to see Michael in the doorway, eyes wide. He was still wearing the same clothes that Jeremy had seen him in at the ball, and he was clutching a shoe in his right hand. 

 

**Can I help you?**

 

“Yes,” Michael started, still frozen in the doorway. He looked like he would sooner throw himself to a pack of wolves than step inside, but the Squip rose and went over to usher him in. 

 

**Well? What do you want?**

 

“I-I want you to find a boy for me,” Michael stammered.

 

**My dear prince, I am not a matchmaker.**

 

“No! Not like that. I'm searching for a specific boy. I met him at the ball and he was… dazzling. He told me his name and then fled, and I haven't the faintest idea of where he ran off to, but I found this at the edge of the forest, and I'm certain that it's his. I thought maybe you could help me locate him,” Michael explained, holding out the shoe in a trembling hand. When the Squip took it, he pulled his arm back as though he were afraid of being burned. 

 

**Yes, I'm sure I could be of some assistance,** the Squip replied, watching as Michael looked around, noting how his eyes lingered curiously on the closed curtain.  **Yes, one of my experiments made a mess. I swept it into the corner to clean up later.**

 

The Squip led Michael over to his table, setting the shoe down on the wood, sweeping the clutter to the side. 

 

**What you need is a locator spell. A potion that you can drink to lead you to your runaway boy. What did you say his name was?**

 

“Jeremy,” Michael answered, clasping his hands behind his back. “His name is Jeremy Heere.” 

 

**Interesting name.** The Squip began pulling out tubes and leaves and powders, crushing and mixing them together until he had a green liquid that glowed slightly in its vial.  **Here. Drink this, and it should lead you straight to your Jeremy Heere.**

 

The hand that took the vial shook, and Michael's hesitance was clear from the way he tugged on his tunic and his jaw clenched, but he raised the glass to his lips and tipped his head back with only a brief pause. 

 

His eyes rolled back in his head and he collapsed, head thudding on the wood floor. The Squip walked over and sighed.

 

**Believe me, if I could have thought of another way, I would have. Particularly because I don't relish the thought of lugging an unconscious body for any number of miles. But, unfortunately, there was no alternative option.**

 

It leaned down and hoisted Michael into its arms, groaning with both the exertion and the effort of making itself solid enough to carry the boy. 

 

****

 

When Jeremy woke, he was alone, and shut off from the rest of the cabin by a thick blue curtain, still huddled on the tiny bed. He swung his legs over the side and sat up, stretching. 

 

“Hey, I'm awake. What exactly am I supposed to do now? I know you're not going to agree to just end this whole thing, but I'd really appreciate it if you did,” Jeremy called, pushing through the curtain to find… an empty cottage. 

 

“What? Well that's great. What the hell am I supposed to do now, just wait until you get back?” he huffed, plopping himself down at the table. “Wait, is that my shoe?”

 

Sure enough, there was the black dress shoe that he had been forced to abandon the other day, quicksand still crusted onto the bottom. 

 

“What the  _ hell _ ?”

 

**You’re up.**

 

Jeremy’s head whipped up, and he eyed the Squip, clutching the refound shoe in his hand.

 

“Yeah, I woke up a few minutes ago and you weren’t here. Where did you go? How did you get this?”

 

**Relax, Jeremy. I stepped outside to deal with some business. A young man stopped by for my help, and he brought this with him. I thought you might want it back.**

 

“What business?” Jeremy pried suspiciously, crossing his arms. “Why would you even need to do business if this world doesn’t really exist?” 

 

The Squip let out an annoyed sigh, and replied through gritted teeth.

 

**Just because the world isn't real, doesn't mean that those in it know that.**

 

“But why does that matter? They're just soulless automatons, right?”

 

The Squip fixed him with an exasperated glare, and Jeremy got the feeling that if he didn't stop talking, he was going to end up a soulless automaton himself. 

 

“Okay, sorry. I was just curious,” he muttered, scraping some of the dried quicksand off of his shoe. “I am glad to have this back, though. Now I can go outside and, like, look around and stuff.”

 

**Yes, but you'll have to come back before night. Like I said, we have limited time here, or your health, and your friends’,  will begin to decline. So, it would be best for you to plan out a way to win Michael's affections by tomorrow.**

 

“Tomorrow? What do you think I am, a miracle child?” Jeremy protested. “I couldn't even win him over in all the time that I've had you!” 

 

**I think that you're a** **_problem_ ** **child. Just… go outside and look around. It might do you good.**

 

Waves of annoyance were rolling off of the Squip’s form, and the way he turned his back was an evident dismissal. Jeremy huffed, stuffed his shoe onto his foot, and headed outside. 

 

It was warmer than he had been expecting, a nice surprise, and the sun shone through the leaves above in tiny ripples of light. The path leading to the cottage, more visible now in the light of day, had light footprints imprinted in the dirt, a track leading up to the door… but not away. Jeremy followed them back a ways, noticing that whoever it was seemed to have slowed the closer they got to the Squip’s little hut. 

 

He backtracked and circled the cabin, looking for other tracks, and he did find some that led off into the woods, but the shape of the footprints were different, and they sunk a bit more into the earth, like their maker had been carrying something heavy. 

 

Jeremy cast a glance back at the cabin and bit his lower lip. The tracks were intriguing, and more importantly, they were a distraction. 

 

_ I'll just follow them a little way and then come back _ , he decided, and started walking, eyes glued intently to the tracks, noticing that at one point, the maker had stumbled, one print stretched wildly out of alignment. 

 

_ What were they carrying? _

 

Jeremy was so focused, he didn't even hear the warning signs; the faint rustling bushes, crinkling leaves, even a few twigs snapping under heavy boots. He didn't know that he was in any danger until there was a knife pressed to his throat.

 

“Who are you, and what are you doing here?” a voice demanded. Jeremy almost didn't recognize it without its usual pep and almost sing-song quality, but his jaw dropped open for a moment (once the blade dug into his throat he decided that that was a bad idea). 

 

“Christine?” he asked incredulously. Bad idea. Bad, bad idea. The knife only dug deeper, and Jeremy winced, sure that it would draw blood. A hand clamped onto his shoulder. 

 

“How do you know my name?” Christine growled. Jeremy shuddered. This sounded nothing like the sweet girl that he knew and loved. This sounded like a girl who would rip his throat open without hesitation. And since she was currently holding a sharp blade to his throat, Jeremy was not eager to tempt her. 

 

“I-I-” 

 

_ Shit, I am so dead. _

 

He didn’t have any good reason, or any way out of this situation. If she was some sort of bandit in this world, he didn’t even have money to bribe her with. 

 

“I-I,” Christine repeated mockingly. “ _ I’m _ waiting for an answer.” 

 

“I know you!” Jeremy blurted, spouting the truth under stress. “Or at least, I know a version of you, a different version. You’re usually a lot nicer, and you don’t try to kill me.”

 

“I don’t believe you,” Christine snarled. 

 

“But I know stuff! Um, you love theater and- and- you’re…. you’re asexual!”

 

The pressure against his throat lifted, the threat still there, but less iminent. 

 

“I’ve never told anyone about that,” Christine mumbled. “How could you know that?”

 

“Because I know you,” Jeremy replied. “I know that you’re aromantic, too.”

 

“No, not that.” Jeremy could almost hear the eyeroll in her voice. “How did you know that I like theater?”

 

“Oh! Well, the you that I know is always talking about it. You manage to slip theater references into every conversation, and you go out for the school play every year,” Jeremy replied. “It’s kind of cute. In, like, a platonic way! I mean, it used to not be platonic, but then you came out, and I, um, yeah, I haven’t really found anybody else. I mean, not that I still have a crush on you, because I don’t. On anyone, now, actually.”

 

“You’ve got to be the worst liar I’ve ever met,” Christine grumbled as she lowered her knife and shoved Jeremy away from her. He stumbled and fell to one knee. “So, unfortunately, I believe you.”

 

“Huh?” Jeremy said, rising to his feet as Christine sheathed her knife. 

 

“I can tell a lie when I hear it,” she replied. “And you’re not lying, you do know me. Or, some other me, anyway. But you are crushing. Hard, apparently.”

 

“No, I’m not,” Jeremy protested. “You’re one of my best friends, but I don’t like you like that anymore, Christine.”

 

“Not on me. Someone else. And don’t call me that out here, it’s not safe.”

 

“What should I call you, then?”

 

Christine smirked. It looked strange on her; Jeremy had only ever seen a smile on her lips. This mischievous, almost haughty expression looked like something that she would normally reserve for the stage. 

 

“The locals have started calling me ‘Robin Hood.’ I think that would do nicely.” 

 

“Oh- okay. Robin Hood.” Jeremy had to laugh. 

 

“And what do I call  _ you _ ?”

 

“Jeremy.” 

 

Christine smiled, and stuck out a hand that Jeremy took.

 

“It’s nice to meet you, then, Jerem- watch out!” 

 

She yanked on his hand, whipping out her knife with the other as he was pulled behind her. An arrow embedded itself in the dirt. 

 

“Run!” she demanded. Jeremy immediately obeyed, running after Christine on autopilot as she followed her own command. 

 

“Who’s shooting arrows at us?” Jeremy cried, risking a glance over his shoulder. He saw a shadow flash across a tree branch, and barely had time to hear the  _ whip  _ of air, before Christine jerked him out of the way, and an arrow implanted itself in the tree that he had been passing. 

 

“Talk less,” Christine hissed, “run more.”

 

“Don’t let them know what you’re against or what you’re for,” Jeremy finished instinctively. 

 

_ Oh my God, my last words are going to be a Hamilton reference.  _

 

Christine groaned, grabbed ahold of his arm, and made a sudden turn, dragging Jeremy with her off the path. She squatted down in the bushes and pulled him down with her.

 

“What are you doing?” Jeremy squawked, immediately grimacing at how horribly those words had come out of his mouth. Christine either didn't notice, or didn't care. 

 

“Something stupid, probably,” she muttered back. 

 

On the same path that they had just left, Jeremy saw a figure in shiny, red-tinted armor, clutching a bow in their left hand, a quiver of arrows slung over their back. When they turned, Jeremy caught a glimpse of a seal on their chest plate, and Christine, beside him, gasped. 

 

“Why would they send  _ her  _ after  _ me _ ?” she breathed, apparently unaware that she had even spoken. Jeremy opened his mouth to ask what she meant… and sneezed, once, twice, three times in rapid succession. The figure beyond the bushes was on them faster than Christine could have said “bless you.” 

 

Cold, gloved hands gripped Jeremy by the shirt and yanked him out of the bushes. He was dimly aware of Christine being given a similar treatment. Then the figure (girl? Christine referred to them as ‘her...’ Knight? They certainly had the armor for the title) spoke. 

 

“Where is the prince, robber?” The light, almost musical voice, muffled by the girl’s helmet, was nothing like the deep, throaty growl that Jeremy had been expecting. He gaped.

 

“The prince?” Christine laughed. “You insult me. Prince Michael is sitting up in his fancy castle, as always. After all, no one would dare to try and harm him, not while he is under your protection.”

 

“And yet, here you are, a famous robber, a scoundrel, on a trail that I followed all the way from the edge of the palace woods, with the boy that fits the exact description of the last person that the prince was seen with.” She turned her head, and Jeremy could feel the icy glare that she gave him through her helmet. “Who  _ are  _ you?”

 

“Nobody, nobody, I’m no one at all,” Jeremy babbled. 

 

“Nobody? Do you think the prince would really devote as much attention to you as he did if you were nobody?”

 

“We don’t know where the prince is,” Christine spoke up, diverting the girl’s attention to her. “My… sidekick and I were following this path. We saw the footprints and were curious.”

 

The silence stretched into minutes, and Jeremy squirmed uncomfortably, collar digging into the back of his neck. Finally, the girl spoke.

 

“...I believe you. If only because you have a noble reputation, for a thief. You’ve never killed a single man or woman.”

 

“She doesn’t keep the things she steals for herself, either,” Jeremy added. He couldn’t help himself. “She gives them to the less fortunate. So, um, maybe you could let go of my shirt?”

 

“You’re pushing your luck,” the girl said, but her tone lacked malice, and she did release them. “If you two don’t know anything, then I must continue my search for the prince.”

 

“Wait!” Jeremy said, stepping forward. “If Michael is missing, I want to help you look for him.” 

 

The girl reached up and took off her helmet, revealing another familiar face, delicate features framed by wisps of blonde hair that had escaped from her bun. Jeremy barely caught himself before he blurted out her name. 

 

Brooke looked suspicious, and she had every right to. From her point of view, Jeremy was a stranger, a strange stranger, travelling with (apparently) the most notorious robber in the kingdom. And while Christine's morals in the midst of crime may have earned her a reprieve, Brooke currently had no reason to hold any sort of respect for Jeremy. 

 

But he had to go. If Michael was in trouble, he had to. Because he didn't know the rules of this world, or if the Squip would really let anything go that far. He had seen the way it looked at Michael sometimes, the way its lips curled into a barely visible sneer. If Michael was in danger, he didn't think he could count on the Squip to save him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We're wrapping everything up, with a neat little bow. Merry (probably late) Christmas, and if you don't celebrate, then Happy (very late) Hanukkah, and if you don't celebrate either, then I hope you had a good day!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I apologize for... everything?? The wait, the trashy writing in previous chapters, and in this one. I don't really have an excuse, just that I kind of fell out of sync with the rhythm that I had going, and somewhere I lost motivation. So, yeah, have this. I promise I will post better content in the future. I might start one of those prompt writing series, because that sounds like fun. 
> 
> Anyway, enough of my rambling. Enjoy!

Brooke hadn't protested for long. Jeremy suspected that she didn't have the strength to. He could feel it himself: a slow draining, like something was siphoning his energy. Of course, roughly a day without food will start to do that to you, especially if your meals are few (at best) in the first place. 

 

But, anyway, now he trudged along behind Brooke, and Christine had tagged along, albeit reluctantly, after Jeremy asked (begged) her to join them. 

 

They walked a good distance behind Brooke, whispering as they went. 

 

“You know her, too, don't you?” Christine asked. “I saw how you looked at her when she took her helmet off.”

 

“Yeah, I know her,” Jeremy replied. “Brooke is another one of my friends. She's usually a lot… nicer. Have you ever heard the phrase smol bean? Because that's how I would describe her.”

 

“Small… bean? I don't understand.”

 

“It's… shit. It's contemporary slang, I shouldn't have expected you to get it. Sorry.”

 

Suddenly, Brooke stopped in her tracks and threw out an arm. Jeremy and Christine both froze, jaws dropping simultaneously as they took in the looming tower in front of them. Someone was singing inside. The notes barely reached them, but Jeremy saw Brooke's eyes widen at the sound.

 

“I've never seen this here before,” Christine whispered, voice awed. 

 

“I need to get closer,” Brooke said, already moving ahead. Jeremy barely got a word out before Christine hissed, “Wait!” 

 

A figure appeared at the window, not gazing so much as glaring out at the view before her, brown hair hanging over her shoulder, way past the length that Jeremy knew it to be normally. 

 

“She's beautiful,” Brooke whispered, slack-jawed. “We have to help her.”

 

“Help her? What are you talking about?” Christine snapped. “I thought our mission was to find the prince.”

 

“Yes, but can't you see? She's obviously trapped. And isn't any addition to our party an asset?”

 

“Maybe in different circumstances. But we don't know if we have a limit on time. Every second that we waste is a second more that the prince is in danger,” Christine shot back. 

 

“Guys! I think Brooke is right. The more man- er- peoplepower we have, the better. Besides, isn't she technically a damsel in distress? We can't just leave her,” Jeremy said. 

 

Both girls turned to look at him, and he squirmed uncomfortably under their scrutiny.

 

“Fine,” Christine finally huffed. “As long as you never, ever, say ‘damsel’ again.”

 

Brooke didn’t even wait for Christine to finish. She replaced her helmet and ran out into the clearing, startling the girl in the window.

 

“My lady! I’m here to free you,” Brooke called. The girl scoffed.

 

“Clearly not. Many men have tried. All have failed. And even the failures came better equipped than you,” she snarked. 

 

Brooke kneeled.

 

“Maybe,” she said, sliding her helmet off, “you weren't waiting for a man at all.” 

 

Up in her tower, the girl snorted and leaned against the windowsill. 

 

“Alright, I'll admit, that's a new one. So, lady knight, how exactly are you going to free me?”

 

“I'm not,” Brooke replied, grinning. “You're going to free yourself. I'm just here to act as a cushion for your fall.”

 

“Um… what? I'm not jumping out the window.”

 

“No. But do you see that little hook above your window? If you loop your hair around it, you should be able to lower yourself down.”

 

The girl gaped at her.

 

“Are you insane? What if I fall?” 

 

“Then I'll catch you,” Brooke replied confidently. 

 

The girl looked doubtful, but she did as Brooke said anyway, and Jeremy saw fear and hope equally flashing across her expression as she started down. 

 

About halfway to the ground, her foot slipped.

 

Jeremy had never seen anyone move as fast as Brooke did, shedding her breastplate and the armor on her arms as she ran to position herself under the falling girl. 

 

She hit so hard that Brooke fell over, clutching the girl in her arms. Jeremy and Christine immediately raced over to make sure that they were okay.

 

“I'm Chloe,” the girl whispered. Brooke smiled, and stood, pulling Chloe up with her. 

 

“That's great,” Christine muttered. “Now can we get back to saving the prince?”

 

“Yeah,” Jeremy agreed. “I'm glad that we could save Chloe, but we have everyone now, we're all accounted for, so we have to get to Michael. He is now our first and only priority, got it?”

 

Brooke nodded. 

 

“Get back to the path, find where we left the trail, and keep going. We'll be right behind you.”

 

She turned to Chloe and gave her a sympathetic frown, rummaging around in her bag to pull out a dagger. 

 

“I'm sorry, but we're going to have to cut your hair.”

 

*****

 

Five minutes later, and Chloe led the way with Brooke, hair choppy and ragged, cut off at about shoulder length. 

 

The footprints were farther apart now, as if whoever had taken the trail had gotten faster. Jeremy hoped that that meant their destination was close, because the forest around them was starting to creep him out. The trees were old, and their branches looked like wooden snarls, stretching across the path, bare, even though it was summer. 

 

“This place gives me the chills,” Christine muttered, and Jeremy nodded. 

 

“Look! Up there!” Brooke called, pointing unnecessarily at what looked like a shrine, a few feet ahead. The trees were warped to curve around a stone altar, candles burning in multitudes on cement steps. And lying prone on the altar, wrapped in a red cape, was a figure that Jeremy would have recognized anywhere. 

 

“Michael!” he cried, breaking into a sprint. Both Christine and Brooke threw out half-hearted hands to stop him, but he brushed past them easily, running up the steps, expecting to see Michael sit up and grin at him, any minute now, any second. 

 

Any.

 

Minute.

 

But there was no sign of awareness or acknowledgement from Michael as Jeremy fell to his knees beside the altar. He wasn't even moving, aside from the steady rise of fall of his chest. His eyes were closed, and his face was slack, like he was sleeping, but when Jeremy shook him, he didn't wake. 

 

“Michael? Micah, come on, wake up,” Jeremy pleaded, cupping Michael's face in his hands. “This isn't funny.”

 

“Step away from him!” Brooke commanded, seizing Jeremy's shoulder. 

 

“No! I can wake him up!”

 

“No, you can't.” Brooke’s voice was soft, sad. “I've seen this before. Once, years ago. It's a sleeping curse. Only true love’s kiss could wake him now.” 

 

“But I love him,” Jeremy gasped, yanking himself out of Brooke’s grasp. She had given up trying to hold him, simply staring at him with an irritating mixture of sympathy and resolve. She didn't believe him.

 

But this must have been the Squip’s plan, right from the beginning. Maybe if Jeremy played along, it would send them home. He wanted to go home. He was tired of this other world, these imposters with his friends’ names and faces. 

 

So he turned away from Brooke and kneeled beside Michael, the cold seeping from the stone to his knees through his pants. He put a hand on his friend's cheek and tilted Michael's face towards him. 

 

“Mikey, come back to me,” he whispered, hesitating for just a second before he connected their lips. They were warm, soft, and Jeremy could feel the breath puffing against his cheek from Michael's nose, slow and steady. Kissing Michael (!) tasted like stale weed and cherry slushies, an odd but somehow amazing combination. 

 

“Jeremy…” 

 

Jeremy jolted upward, eyes fixed on Michael's face, hopeful, but… nothing. 

 

“Jeremy,” came again, from behind him, and he turned to see Christine at his shoulder, taking hold of his wrist to tug him away.

 

“That's not going to work,” she murmured. 

 

“No, it will. It has to,” he argued. “It has to.” 

 

“Jeremy-” 

 

“Jere?” 

 

Jeremy whipped around to see Michael's eyes wide open, fixed on him. 

 

“Michael,” he breathed. Michael sat up, and Jeremy lunged forward, throwing his arms around his friend. “I was so worried, don't ever do that again.”

 

“I-I'm sorry? Not exactly sure what I did, buddy.” 

 

Jeremy pulled back, scanning Michael's face. 

 

“You're  _ my  _ Michael,” he said breathlessly, grinning.

 

“Uh… yeah?”

 

Jeremy surged forward and kissed Michael again, sinking his hands into his friend's hair. 

Michael let out a muffled gasp. 

 

“Shit!” Jeremy yanked himself away, and he would have fallen off the altar altogether, but Michael threw his arms around his lanky body and pulled him back. “I'm sorry, I wasn't thinking, I should have asked…”

 

“Hey, it's okay,” Michael replied softly, smiling. “You just surprised me. Believe me, I'm not going to say no to a kiss. You  _ did  _ just wake me up from the Sleeping Beauty death nap, Jere.”

 

“Does that make you Aurora, then?” Jeremy asked quietly, grinning. 

 

“You bet it does.” Michael laughed. “So kiss me, Prince Phillip.”

 

“You were the prince in this weird world,” Jeremy muttered, but he leaned forward and kissed Michael anyway, leaning into the other boy's warmth with a soft sigh as he felt his friend's arms tighten around him. 

 

The world seemed to fade away; the only thing Jeremy was aware of was the warmth that enveloped him, and the soft lips moving against his. He didn't hear Christine yelling, or see the blue smoke that shrouded them, until he felt Michael slipping away from him. 

 

*****

 

When Jeremy opened his eyes, he was laying on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. 

 

_ Did that really happen? _

 

**Yes, it did. So I would suggest that either you call Michael… or you head downstairs and open the front door.**

 

Jeremy jumped up, landing on the floor in a heap of blankets and embarrassment in his haste. It took him a minute to get free, but when he could finally move his legs, he ran downstairs and flung open the front door. 

 

Michael blinked, fist raised to knock. 

 

“Micah,” Jeremy said, and launched himself forward, throwing his arms around Michael, who stumbled, but hugged back, laughing. 

 

“Hey, Jere. I'm going to go ahead and guess that you had the same crazy dream?”

 

“It wasn't a dream, though. All of that actually happened… which means that we should probably get something to eat. I forget how long it's been since I had food.”

 

“You should probably check with everybody else too, then. Make sure they're all okay,” Michael advised, stepping inside. “You go get your phone, I'll make us some sandwiches.”

 

When Jeremy opened his phone, he had twenty-nine total messages, most of them from Rich. 

 

**JakeyD** :  _ yo dude I just had the weirdest hallucination _

 

**JakeyD:** _ one minute im laying in bed right looking shit up on my phone and the next thing i know im sitting in some kind of throne next to rich??? should i go see a doctor or smth? _

 

 **JakeyD:** _im also hungry. did i get like stoned or smth and not notice? is that a thing that can happen??_

  
  


**Chris:** _ JEREMY.  _

 

**Chris:** _ WAS THAT REAL? WAS I ACTUALLY A FEMALE ROBIN HOOD?  _

 

**Chris:** _ ANSWER ME, HEATHEN _

  
  


**SmolBean:** _ omg Jeremy!!!! I had the best/weirdest dream last night and guess what!  _

 

**SmolBean:** _ you're not answering so I'll just tell you. Chloe called me like five minutes after I woke up and asked me out on a date! _

 

**SmolBean:** _ a date!!!!! _

 

**SmolBean:** _ but back to that dream thing?? It was really weird but also kind of cool, and oh! You kissed Gay Headphones Kid in it! _

 

**SmolBean:** _??? I was trying to say Gay Headphones Kid _

 

**SmolBean:** _ M i c h a e l. The Best Bisexual must have messed with my autocorrect _

 

**SmolBean:** _ R I C H _

  
  


**StillScary:** _ I asked Brooke out. Also, you made out with Mell in my dream last night. Congrats. At least dream-you is gettin the ass _

  
  


**RichNO:** _ dude i think i was married to Jkae in my dream last nirgh  _

 

**RichNO:** _ *Jake *night _

 

**RichNO:** _ It was so awesome dude we were like sitinf in matching thrones and some dude called us mr. and mr. goranski  _

 

**RichNO:** _ *sitting _

 

**RichNO:** _ lol dude he took my last name _

 

**RichNO:** _ also we made out  _

 

**RichNO:** _ a lot _

 

**RichNO:** _ and we almost did the frickle frackle  _

 

**RichNO:** _ that's code word for sex _

 

**RichNO:** _ because I don't want to offend your delicate sensibles  _

 

**RichNO:** _ sensory?  _

 

**RichNO:** _ sensity _

 

**RichNO:** _ SENSIBILITIES there we go _

 

**RichNO:** _ what was I talking about _

 

**RichNO:** _ oh right! Details! _

 

Jeremy grimaced, and quickly texted Rich back.

 

**Me:** _ rich no _

 

**RichNO:** _ rich yes _

 

Jeremy laughed, shook his head, and slipped his phone into his pocket to head back downstairs, where he was greeted by the welcome sight of Michael holding out a sandwich. 

 

“Thanks,” he said, accepting the food. He hadn't even noticed how hungry he was until he took his first bite, and soon he was wolfing it down. “You were right. My phone was flooded.”

 

“Rich?”

 

“Mostly Rich.”

 

Michael nodded and bit into his own sandwich. 

 

“Him and Jake have fun?”

 

“Oh god, don't get me started. I'm going to need brain-bleach.”

 

They laughed, then sat in silence until they had finished their sandwiches. 

 

“So… what do we do now?” Michael asked quietly, avoiding Jeremy's eyes. “I mean… with us. What are we?”

 

“I-I'm not exactly sure,” Jeremy replied. 

 

“Because I was just going to say, we don't have to be, like, boyfriends or whatever, if you don't want to,” Michael blurted. “I mean, I know you kissed me, but I also know that it was probably just to wake me up, and you probably didn't really mean it that way, oh great I'm rambling, aren't I?”

 

“No!” Jeremy jumped to explain. “I mean, yes! I'd love to be boy- boyfriends, if you want to. Micah, if I didn't love you, do you think we would have been in that situation in the first place? This whole mess was just my Squip taking its job way too far.”

 

**I resent that.**

 

_ Shut up, I'm trying to have a moment.  _

 

“I-I guess you're right,” Michael reasoned, smiling. “In that case, Jeremiah Heere, I would be proud to be the ‘riend’ to your ‘boyf.’”

 

“Geez,” Jeremy spluttered, covering his reddening face. “Rich is going to tease us about this forever now, isn't he?”

 

“Yes, yes he is,” Michael replied. “But I'm fine with that. It's your Matrix maker I'm worried about. As much as I love sleeping in, I don't appreciate being drugged.”

 

**It was necessary to achieve the end goal.**

 

“He's making an excuse,” Jeremy relayed, chuckling. “It's not a very good one.”

 

Michael grinned.

 

“Well, whatever. Hey, could I ask you to kiss me? It's just that I've kind of had a crush on you for a long-ass time, and y'know, two kisses in an alternate reality… do they actually count as real kisses?”

 

Jeremy laughed, and leaned forward. They met in the middle, and Michael sighed when their lips touched. 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I figuratively live for kudos and comments. And come yell at me on Tumblr! (I take prompts!) I'm amber-angel.


End file.
